Veil (12 page)

“Oh … oh, sir, I … I…” Schaffer stammered. “I
understand that, sir. What I meant was—what I should have asked
was, considering what happened to Dr. Tsay, since the Veil project
is such a big asset that will obviously be protected no matter
what, and I can see why, I can really see why … uhhh … that being
the case I was wondering, with what happened to Dr. Tsay, what
options do I have available to me in order to move forward on this
project, sir? In terms of bringing someone else on board with the
project, sir.”

“Bringing someone on board? Explain.”

“Someone with the right expertise, sir,”
Schaffer tried to clarify.

“So, you’re implying you don’t know what
you’re doing
,
” the General asserted and
leaned back on his desk. His butt came to rest on the edge and he
folded his arms and stared directly at Schaffer.

“No sir. I mean, some aspects. I … what I
mean to say is that Dr. Tsay’s work touches on so many different
areas. Different systems and technologies. It’s hard for one person
to know enough about each in order to accomplish what we’re trying
to accomplish. Making Veil into something you can use, that
is.”

“Tsay knew enough about each. He worked
alone,” the General snapped.

“True—true. Yes.” Schaffer tried to think
quickly and save face. “But, I’m not sure Tsay could’ve designed
the device you’re wanting all on his own either, sir.”

General Coffman wanted to get to the point
and get to it quickly. The little shit was lucky he could use
Tsay’s untimely departure to his advantage.

“So what are you really asking me for,
Doctor?”

A bit taken aback by being referred to by his
title but also filled with a bit more confidence, Schaffer spoke
clearly.

“What I’m asking you is if I can bring a
civilian onboard for their particular expertise in how the brain’s
electricity works? And how it works in conjunction with technology.
The only information they would be given is information they needed
to help design a device capable of manipulating and transferring
the brain’s electricity in the way Veil requires—that is, without
having to use a machine the size of a large room and without
needing physical access to the subject.”

“No, I understood that. That’s what you want,
boy
. I told you to say what you’re really asking me for,”
General Coffman pressed and rescinded some of the confidence he
allowed Schaffer moments earlier.

“What I’m asking you, I mean, why I came in
here and asked about that is because … what I wanted to know is if
I could bring in a civilian to consult with, in order to move to
the next phase, and if that civvy becomes a problem at all, if he
can ummm … uhhh—”

“Become permanently unavailable?” the General
finished for him.

“Yes, sir. To … uhhh … cover our asses so to
speak, sir.”

“Get one thing straight, you don’t need to
worry about covering my ass. What you need to worry about is
ensuring whoever you bring on board is given information on a
need-to-know basis, in the most restrictive environment at all
times. Worry about that, son.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There are vital differences between us and
them, us and civilians. Priorities, loyalties, and patriotism. Just
because you were never really a soldier doesn’t mean you can’t
recognize that. We trained you. You have our values. Do not take
your eyes off the differences.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The civilian will be subjected to regular
debriefings by me personally. Once they are no longer needed, you
will inform me and I will make the determination as to the best way
to discharge them from the project. You will in no way concern
yourself with that, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you have someone in mind
,
I suggest you submit them to start the vetting. If
you don’t, I suggest you find someone. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excused.”

Schaffer turned and left the General’s
office, without getting torn any sort of new one.

The last thing General Coffman wanted to see
was another civilian brought in on the project. He didn’t merely
want to avoid another Tsay fiasco; he genuinely was not a fan of
being responsible for the taking of civilian lives and bringing in
a civilian always created that potential. While sometimes a
necessary evil, it was still something with which he would always
have to live. Everything became a cost-benefit analysis for him the
moment he became a general and the Veil project was no
exception.

Actually, it was a perfect example. The
General knew what an invaluable asset Tsay’s project could be to
the military and the fact Veil came from the civilian sector was no
surprise to him. He found the military could be remarkably
shortsighted in terms of how it developed technology, so myopic
that it was stifling and created an innovation vacuum. He knew Tsay
would’ve never come up with Veil if he were in the military sector;
he knew Tsay would've never willingly handed over Veil to the
military, because Tsay came from the civilian sector.

That wasn’t all, though. The General knew
Schaffer was right to seek a civilian. If there were another
scientist at work for the military who possessed the knowledge and
expertise they sought, finding them could take a while. Plus,
securing them for the job could prove to be a bureaucratic
clusterfuck. It simply wasn’t worth the costs; the benefits of Veil
outweighed everything. That included, if need be, the cost of
another civilian life.

Veil would solidify the General’s legend.
Veil would put him on top. Veil would be
it
for him and his
military. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time he decided someone
had to die for Veil.

When it came to the Tsay decision, General
Coffman did actually have to decide. He told himself over and over
there would always come a point in time when someone
had
to
die. No, he didn’t mean at some point in time everyone
would
die. He specifically meant there would always come a point when
someone in particular clearly
had
to die. Someone had to die
and then another person had to die, and then another person and
another and another and another. No one could do anything about
it—including him. So, why fight it?

If someone happened to be one of those people
who simply
had
to die, perhaps the fact they did have to die
gave their death a reason, a purpose, a meaning. Hell, it was more
than anyone else could say about their own death. Shit, perhaps
being the person who decided whether someone else
had
to die
meant you helped give their death that reason, purpose, and
meaning. Fuck, the General hoped his own death happened because he
had
to die, rather than it arbitrarily occurring or because
it was his “time.”

Besides, he couldn’t know if the course of
deaths that
had
to happen were a circumstance of chance or
fate. The knowledge went well beyond his pay grade, so he chose to
remove any consideration of it from the equation. Removing the
inevitability from the equation also meant he needn’t fret over his
role in deciding whether a death had to happen. He was quite
pleased that he needn’t worry about the last part.

However, there was one thing he knew he had
to consider above all else: Veil.

The General didn’t merely have to consider
Veil, it had to be considered first, foremost, forefront. Veil was
his ticket and badge. Above and beyond that, Veil was his nation’s
way to achieve the total epic win, while permanently subduing every
other nation into supreme epic failure. There was zero chance any
other military could surpass or survive the impending atomic bomb
of the mind, especially when they would never be aware of its
existence. Veil wouldn’t make his military invincible, but it would
render every other military indefensible. Veil was it. Game over,
fuckholes.

Just shy of six months before that shitbox
Schaffer burst into his office, the General leaned back in his
chair and entwined his meaty fingers behind his head. He stared at
the set of papers on his desk. The decision he faced was by no
means supposed to be pleasant or easy, so he took it damn
seriously, if only to avoid feeling guilty for not taking it
seriously enough.

Although he strove to consider all possible
factors, his mind kept returning to that one strand throughout the
fabric of the decision at hand: Veil. It was the common thread that
stitched the elements together and without it all the pieces would
unravel into insignificance. Veil was the golden yarn in the
equation and the more the General’s mind honed in on its purity and
magnificent shimmer, the more his decision made itself.

If someone
had
to die to protect Veil,
then someone had to die to protect Veil. If there were any chance
at all of a risk to Veil, that risk had to be acknowledged and
eliminated. Hell, wasn’t that precisely what his whole decision was
about in the first place? Didn’t the decision itself indicate a
chance of risk? Wouldn’t it mean that, since the decision reared
its ugly, inconvenient head, it was already time to bring in the
guillotine? How many more questions—whose answers were rhetorically
affirmative—did the General need to ask himself? Wasn’t he just
putting off the inevitable, unpleasant decision, which had already
made itself?
Affirmative
.

That was it; General Coffman decided about
Tsay. After he made his decision, he leaned forward, and as he
swung upright, the solid weight of his authoritative belly seesawed
his chair with enough momentum that its back legs lifted off the
ground. He strong hands reflexively caught and braced himself with
the edge of his desk. By then he was quite used to how the shifting
of his weight caused that temporary imbalance. Only once had the
imbalance sent him tumbling. When that happened, his chin smacked
the desk so hard it split open to the bone
.
He still had the scar on his domineering chin.
During that first impact, his mind instantly trained his body to
catch the bastard, and it did so every single time since.

When the General’s chair stabilized, he
gathered up the papers in front of him and—three staples
later—stapled them together with one staple in the upper left-hand
corner. The first two staples didn’t make it all the way through
the stack. His third attempt ended with the stapler’s hammer
getting stuck, so he had to set it down and smack the damn thing
with his fist. His punch loosened it and to the General’s delight,
the third staple actually pierced and bound all the pages. His
crude fingers couldn’t grasp the other two, so he had to use his
teeth to pull them out.

He slid the stapled set of papers into a
black plastic pouch that reminded him of the ones stores used to
conceal the covers of the titty magazines they stocked. He sealed
the pouch and placed it inside another one, which was red. When the
Tsay dossier was sealed up to his satisfaction, he placed it on his
desk, rested his folded hands on top of it, and took a deep
breath.

That was that; the time had come. A civilian
scientist had to be eliminated. The scientist’s wife had to suffer
the same fate, and their home needed to be ransacked for any traces
of the man’s research. Every detail required for the job was
included in the pouch under his hands. The General took another
deep breath.

Jin Tsay had to die. There was no way around
it. It was unfortunate, he didn’t deserve it, and it sucked.
However, Jin Tsay had to fucking die.

Now he hoped Schaffer’s candidate didn’t have
to fucking die as well.

Schaffer already knew what man he wanted. He
heard about him on NPR. A few times. NPR had an annoying habit of
playing the same show over and over and over. It always irritated
Schaffer, but suddenly … well, suddenly he found himself thankful
for it.